


Unsportsmanlike Behavior

by bigficenergy



Series: Kiss Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Apologies, Baseball Boyfriends, Episode: s05e09 The M.V.P., Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigficenergy/pseuds/bigficenergy
Summary: “Four RBI!” Patrick yells as he steps on home plate again and keeps going.“What?!”“Runs batted in! You had four! I’m running one lap for each!”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Kiss Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871239
Comments: 27
Kudos: 244





	Unsportsmanlike Behavior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schittposting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schittposting/gifts).



> So there's a list of [kissing prompts](https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts) out there that I want soooo bad to take on, but also like, I don't know if I can do this again right after the soft prompts. So, as a ~compromise~, I asked [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schittposting/pseuds/schittposting) to pick one or two she'd like me to write. So she did! The prompts she picked were:
> 
>   * A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.
>   * A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.
> 

> 
> Very happy that my brain went the baseball (softball) route for this one! I'd only written [one MVP-inspired fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18048857) before this, so I feel like I was due for another. ⚾️

Now that David has been fed, he’s not in a hurry to leave the baseball field. It’s a nice day out, his boyfriend is soothing his bruised back with an ice pack, and then he’s having a second hot dog while Patrick has his first. Gradually, the crowd thins out. David hangs out on the bleachers with Patrick, then without him as Patrick makes the rounds, fist bumping his teammates and saying goodbyes.

Eventually, when it’s just the two of them left, Patrick walks out to center field and lays down in the grass. David gives him a few minutes, then goes out to join him.

Patrick is laying with his hands behind his head, staring up at the early evening sky. David hesitates, but then he looks down at himself, at the dirt streaked up his chest from his headfirst slide into home, and figures that worrying about getting dirty is pointless at this juncture. So he lays down carefully on the grass next to him, hands folded on his stomach. After a moment, Patrick speaks.

“I played baseball in some form for most of my life,” he says. “When you hit a certain age, coaches will make you run laps for everything. Being late to practice, having too much fun in the dugout during a tough game, not nailing a drill, missing an easy fly. Sometimes the whole team would have to run for one person’s mistake. But I had this coach in high school who didn’t believe in that. He said it was bad for moral. If you needed extra help, he’d work with you. If you really goofed off, sometimes you’d do a little extra running, sometimes you’d drag the field or haul the equipment in after practice. The only thing he was adamant about making you run laps for was bad sportsmanship.”

“Were you ever a bad sport?”

Patrick chuckles. “You saw me today. I get competitive. Sometimes to a point where it isn’t productive. So yeah, coach had me run it out.”

Suddenly, Patrick is on his feet, walking with purpose down the center of the infield to home plate. He leaves David’s side so quickly, David just sits up and turns to watch him, still seated on the grass. It isn’t until Patrick steps on home plate and takes off jogging to first base that David gets to his feet and watches him, perplexed.

“What are you doing?” David calls as Patrick jogs on to second base.

“Repenting for my unsportsmanlike behavior,” Patrick calls back as he hits second and continues on to third. “Consider this my apology!”

“Ice cream is a good apology!” David suggests. “Or, like, a small piece of jewelry!”

“Four RBI!” Patrick yells as he steps on home plate again and keeps going.

“What?!”

“Runs batted in! You had four! I’m running one lap for each!”

“Okay well it’s getting dark, and soon the local youths will be showing up to loiter and the moths will be waking up, and they can smell fear!”

“The youths or the moths?”

“Both! So can you not and say you did?”

“Nope!” Patrick heads for third. “Already halfway there now anyway!”

So David stands there in centerfield, hands on his hips, watching as Patrick starts his third lap. He’s breathing harder when he hits second again, and he loses his hat around shortstop, but doesn’t stop to pick it up. So David does, scooping it up and walking to home plate as Patrick takes off on his final lap.

David plants his cleats right atop the plate, crosses his arms with Patrick’s hat still clutched in one hand, and faces down the third base line. As Patrick rounds third and sees that David has no intention of moving, he tries to slow to a lighter jog. He still has enough momentum going that, when David opens his arms for him to crash into, they both stumble. But, with coordination that impresses both of them, David follows that momentum, turning them so they stop when Patrick’s back hits the chain link fence.

David’s hands end up braced against the fence on either side of Patrick’s shoulders. Both of Patrick’s hands are clutching David’s biceps, and he’s panting from the running. Judging by the way he lets his head fall back against the fence, his gaze dropping to David’s mouth, it may not just be about the running.

“Kiss me,” Patrick exhales with a smile, his grip tightening on David’s arms.

“Kiss you? A second ago you were running for my forgiveness, and now you’re demanding kisses?” David says, but he’s smiling too.

“Consider it warm up for the rest of my apology,” Patrick says, leaning up to brush the tip of his nose against David’s. “Which I’ll give to you at home.”

“I see. So what does four R-whatever…”

“RBI.”

“...translate into in the bedroom?”

“It means you score four times.”

David bites his lip. “That’s very ambitious of you. But you may recall, our record is three each, and I hadn’t played a whole game of baseball beforehand.”

“Maybe you can let me pinch hit for one?” Patrick says, sliding a hand up to the side of David’s neck.

“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” David says, shaking his head as he gives in, letting Patrick knock his hat off his head just before he finally crushes their mouths together.

With his own hat in the dirt, David figures he may as well drop Patrick’s too, freeing up both hands to roam over his boyfriend. When his hands slide from Patrick’s shoulders to his chest, he can feel Patrick’s heart hammering away. He pulls back to let them both get some air, but Patrick takes the break to reverse their positions, and David finds himself pressed up against the fence, Patrick’s lips on his neck.

“Maybe this would be a good time to move things somewhere less public? Mmhhh…” David tries to stifle a moan as Patrick’s teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot right above his collar.

“Just a few more minutes?” Patrick pleads breathlessly against David’s jaw. “I know you’re not gonna let me take you to bed in your dirty uniform so can we just…” Patrick’s hands move down to David’s waist, thumbs tracing over his belt. “Please…”

“Unfair,” David laughs. “How does anyone argue with that?”

Patrick doesn’t answer, instead bringing their smiling mouths back together for another kiss. David wraps his arms around Patrick, and Patrick’s hands grip David’s waist tighter. When David licks into Patrick’s mouth, Patrick groans and tugs hard, pulling David flush against him.

David grunts uncomfortably, breaking the kiss. They’re both wearing athletic cups.

“Okay, maybe now would be a good time to-”

“Yeah, we should probably…” Patrick says, adjusting himself.

They pick up their hats, Patrick shaking his off and putting it back on, while David opts to just carry his, pinched between his fingers. Patrick gathers up their equipment, and in the waning light of the setting sun, David notices that his eye black is smudged, and wonders if any of it ended up on his face or neck. It should bother him more, but he just smirks to himself and runs his fingers surreptitiously over the places where Patrick’s face had touched him, just in case.

As they leave the park and walk side-by-side toward the parking lot, Patrick slips his free arm around David’s waist.

“Thank you for indulging me,” he says.

“Just now, or for the game?” David teases.

“Both. And I am sorry for the way I acted.”

“Yes, well, I _suppose_ you’ve made it up to me.”

“Hey,” Patrick says, bumping him with his hip. “You _suppose_? It’s not like you don’t have a competitive streak too. Remember last games night?”

“So Stevie and I got a little heated-”

“A little? David, I thought I was about to watch a friendship end.”

“Okay fine!” David says, throwing his hands up. When he brings them back down, he wraps the arm closer to Patrick around his shoulders. “So maybe it’s something we can both work on.”

“Yes, it is,” Patrick says, grinning.

They get to the car, and Patrick pops the trunk and loads the gear in. David wraps his arms around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

“But it’s still _your_ turn to work on it tonight, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick says, trying to sound annoyed, but the way he’s pressing back into David betrays how game he is to continue his apology at home, as promised.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ❤️
> 
> (Did I project my former-softball-player issues a little bit into that story Patrick tells? Perhaps. 😅 )
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://fraudulentzodiac.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
